


Smutember Day 27: Body Worship

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Emily has always had a crush on Lucas and can't believe her luck when she has the chance to offer him a ride.





	Smutember Day 27: Body Worship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepyEmily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEmily/gifts).



> Day 27 of Tumblr's Smutember.
> 
> Inspired by conversations with Sleepy Emily, about how much we love Lucas's nose.

Emily's mother had told her more than once never to pick up hitchhikers. She could produce a list, if necessary, of disturbing cases in which people who'd picked up hitchhikers ended up dead - or worse, she said, in ominous tones.

Emily always only half-listened to her mother, but when she saw the guy in the hoodie trudging along by the side of the road in the rain she remembered what she'd said.

She nudged the brake, slowing down as she drew level with him. He looked familiar. Her heart gave a cautious leap in her chest. Was it - ? Yes! It was Lucas Baker!

Emily hesitated. She wasn't thinking about her mother's advice, only about plucking up the courage to follow her dreams and let the man in her car.

He was her friend Zoe’s older brother and she'd had a crush on him for the longest time, starting in middle school. He’d always been sullen and sulky and slightly unpredictable, but it had never put her off. Now, years after graduating, her obsession was undiminished, and she'd kept up the awkward, outgrown friendship with Zoe just for the chance to be around Lucas, even if it was only occasionally.

She hadn't seen him for a few months, being out of town, but the sight of him toiling along looking like a drowned rat, his soaking LCS hoodie clinging to his hunched shoulders, brought her infatuation back in a dizzying rush.

She'd fantasized about an opportunity like this -  daydreams about just such a situation, and now it was here she was determined not to waste it.

She tapped her horn, cringing at the pathetic beep it made. It sounded more like Roadrunner than a car horn, but she saw him flinch at the unexpected noise and turn his head.

Emily gave him her best smile and nodded towards the passenger seat invitingly. He stopped walking and stared at her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, then returned her smile with his own version which was more of a leer than anything.

She rejoiced inwardly as he opened the car door and leaned inside. He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and deep sunk, and rain dripped off the end of his nose.

“Hey Lucas. You want a ride?” she asked him brightly.

He studied her for a moment, seeming to debate with himself.

“Emily, right?” he drawled. “Zoe's friend?”

She nodded happily. The thrill that went through her at his recognition travelled a dangerous path from her chest and through the pit of her stomach, ending up in a pleasant little tingle between her legs.

He remembered her name…!

He examined her a few beats longer, those astonishing blue eyes boring into her very soul, before apparently reaching a decision.

“Thanks,” he said, swinging himself into the car and shutting the door, the smell of rain and cigarettes accompanying him.

“‘fraid I'm gonna get yer seat all wet, though,” he commented.

Emily tried to concentrate on pulling away, reflecting that her seat had been pretty wet before he'd even got in…..

She blushed at the thought.

“That's okay, I don't mind,” she said out loud, stealing a delicious sideways glance at him.

He was looking straight ahead through the rain-spattered windshield, and his profile made her throat close up.

Lucas hadn't been popular at school, actually being something of a pariah, and the general consensus had been that he was ‘creepy-looking’, but as far as Emily was concerned he was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.

He was an unlikely heart-throb with his hook of a nose and skinny body, but it was all a matter of personal taste, and Emily had wanted to taste him, among other things, for too long.

Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced her way and she hurriedly turned her attention back to the road. Her wipers were going full speed but it was raining so hard the visibility was crappy and she forced herself to concentrate on not crashing the car.

“You want a drink?” she blurted. “I think there's a soda in the glove box…”

He’d been a sugar junky at school, she remembered, always chugging sodas or energy drinks, and his response to her query was automatic, long fingers scrabbling at the button, the door falling open.

“Aw, yeah…” he said eagerly, grabbing the plastic bottle and twisting the cap. “Thanks!”

She listened to the hiss of the Coke being opened, followed by prolonged glugging. She risked a glance at him: Head tipped back, Adam's apple bobbing as he drank greedily. She smiled indulgently.

“So...uh... what you been up to?” he asked eventually, half the bottle gone already.

He seemed to be on edge, his leg jiggling nervously, his hand fidgeting in his pocket.

“Not much,” she admitted. “Just doing my art and stuff….”

It was shameless self-promotion, but she wanted to remind him about her. She'd won a competition at school with her work, a piece that he'd complimented casually, but the offhand comment had had a huge effect on her.

“Art? Oh, yeah! I remember. You did that thing at school. Real good, if I recall…”

She blushed, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. It was just getting better and better.

Her heart was pounding now, making her feel light headed, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

They drove for a while in silence, eventually coming to a heavily wooded area, the high road that went past Lonny’s Bar, and trees closed in on either side. 

Lucas peered out of the window, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“Uh, Emily? This is kind o’ embarrassin’, but d’ya think you could maybe pull over for a spell? My back teeth are floatin’...”

Emily nodded, steering the car into a shallow space where the trees weren't so close to the road. He needed to piss. He was going to get out of her car and go into the trees and get his dick out while she waited….ohhh…..

She switched off the engine, turning politely away from him, snagging her purse from where it was wedged next to her and fumbling in it blindly.

Lucas made no move to get out, instead shifting in his seat and leaning closer to her.

His proximity caused a prickle along her flank, goosebumps running up the arm closest to him. She turned her head to look at him.

Lucas had something in his hand: A syringe, uncapped, its needle pointed in her direction.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Emily….” he said.

 

The room was bare but for a bed, a chair, and a toilet plumbed clumsily in. No windows and a bright overhead light.

There had been shouting, recriminations, demands for answers, but now there was silence as Emily and Lucas attempted to stare each other down.

Lucas caved in first, his face twisting in annoyance.

“Why d’ya keep starin’ at me?” he demanded, hands clenching into fists.

Emily should have been scared of him, she knew - he was volatile, probably dangerous, capable of violence. She'd seen him get into a fight once at school. It had been a short one, and he'd been provoked, but there had been a lot of screaming and blood from his opponent by the end of it. The police and an ambulance had been called.

But she didn't think he'd hurt her. Or was that most wishful thinking?

She looked down at the floor where the thick chain that was screwed into the wall gleamed in the harsh fluorescent lighting. The ankle shackle attached to it was a sturdy loop. Without tools it would be impossible to break open.

“Answer me!” said Lucas, apparently angry that her attention had turned from him.

She met his gaze again, the piercing blue of his eyes having an effect on her like some kind of truth drug. She couldn't think of a suitable lie under the pressure of those eyes.

“I'm staring because you're beautiful,” she sighed, defeated.

He looked shocked at her admission.

“What….? You ain't serious….” he scoffed, but there was doubt on his face. Enough for her to maybe convince him.

“I am serious, Lucas. I've been crushing on you for….oh, so long I don't even know.”

It was embarrassing admitting this even under such unusual circumstances.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Aw, c’mon Emily! Ya don't expect me to believe that.”

She shrugged.

“It's true. Why is it so hard to grasp?”

“Cuz I ain't exactly one o’ those guys in the movies,” he said. “Or one o’ them pretty boys in a band. I know I'm an ugly motherfucker - came to terms with that long ago!”

“But you're not!” she objected. “Really!”

He snorted, looking away from her awkwardly.

“Huh. Yer just sayin’ that…”

Emily sat up straight. He was perched on the edge of the bed opposite her, and for that reason she found it difficult to concentrate: The bed was narrow, but it would be big enough for two people if they were close together...

“What part of you do you hate the most?” she asked. “Come on - what is it that's so bad about you?”

He paused, touching his nose almost involuntarily, his fingers just brushing the bridge before dropping down.

“Your nose? Is that right? Oh, Lucas…

If only you knew. I fucking love your nose. I think it's one of your best features.”

“Looks like a fuckin’ parrot’s beak,” he muttered, self-conscious.

“Well I like it” said Emily, folding her arms, defiant.

He shifted on the bed. He seemed to be struggling with the desire to say something.

“What….what else do you like?” he asked finally.

“Your eyes,” she said, watching them widen in surprise. “They're so...blue. I could get lost in them…”

She sighed, watching him squirm uncomfortably, her chin propped on her hand.

“D’you want me to go on?” she asked.

There was a pause, then he nodded, looking fascinated despite himself.

Emily began to list the things she loved.

It was a long list, and many of the items on it were probably unusual, but there was no denying she'd dwelled on every single one in the past, probably in far too much depth.

There were his hands - those long, elegant fingers, almost delicate, definitely skilled. She’d thought about those fingers a lot, not to mention where they might go.

Then his slender neck, oddly long, but giving him a somehow vulnerable look that was surely deceptive.

She told him about the fluffy hair on the back of his head, soft and downy looking, and the way his nose wrinkled when he laughed. The little pinch of flesh between his eyebrows that formed when he frowned. His mouth, often scowling but tempting to her nevertheless. And even his walk, slouching and languid, made her weak at her own knees.

He listened with a growing expression of wonder, not interrupting her, and by the end he looked utterly flustered.

“Well….” he said finally. “I gotta say….I never knew how ya felt, Emily….Why didn't ya say somethin’?”

Emily laughed, but there was no humour in it.

“Say something?” she repeated. “You hardly talked to me enough  for me to say something!”

He frowned, momentarily flooring her with the little crease between his eyebrows.

“Emily...I hardly talked to anyone,” he pointed out. “Weren't exactly popular, so I learned to keep to myself. Don't mean I didn't like you.”

Emily felt tears sting her eyes, empathy making her chest ache.

The poor boy! He must have felt so lonely and unloved….

He looked uncomfortable at her sudden surge of emotion, which she realised must be written plain on her face.

“No need to get all upset,” he said quietly. “I mean...I’m here now...If you want me…”

He looked away from her, eyes downcast to the bare floor.

Emily felt her fingers twitch with the urge to touch him, her body thrumming with barely suppressed desire. She couldn't quite believe she was here with him, alone in this room, with a bed…..

Unable to hold back any longer she threw herself at him, winding her arms around his neck with a sigh, pressing her smooth cheek against his stubbled one. Her hands found the fuzz of hair on the back of his head and she raked her fingers through it. It was just as soft as she'd imagined.

Lucas shifted his weight back slightly, and she sank into his lap, pressing all of her against him. She wanted to squeeze him so tightly she'd sink into him, meld with him.

She felt his arms go around her, hesitant, creeping around her waist. She turned her head and planted a sound kiss on the line of his jaw, holding her lips there, breathing in his scent.

He was still damp from the rain, his hoodie soaking her blouse.

Feeling shy, she sat up, fingering the tab of the zip that held the garment closed.

“You should get out of these wet clothes,” she suggested, her face feeling hot with blushes.

“Yer prolly right,” he agreed.

Something moved under the snug curve of her ass where it rested on his lap - something twitching and growing hard.

Emily giggled, pulling the zip down, opening his jacket.

The white t-shirt beneath was grey from too many washes, and soaked through with rain. It clung to his chest, the darker patches of his nipples and a faint fuzz of hair showing through. His Adam's apple jumped in his throat as he swallowed, the hands on her waist flexing and tightening.

She pushed the sodden hoodie from his shoulders, peeling it away from him, and he released her obligingly to allow her to draw it off his arms. She was aware that she'd never seen his bare arms before - they were always covered by long sleeves.

There were goosebumps on them, lifted by unaccustomed exposure, making the sparse hair that covered them stand up. And scars - lots of scars. Some relatively fresh, some long-healed. Thin lines, fat lines. Some bearing the marks of stitches. Some over the vulnerable blue tracery of his veins.

“Oh….”

Emily ran her fingertips over them, the shiny skin feeling smoother than the healthy parts.

“Oh, Lucas….”

“I don't wanna talk about it,” he said softly. “The time o’ my life's over.”

She nodded, respecting his wishes, but unable to keep herself from studying them, tracing their lines.

Taking his wrist in both hands she raised his arm to her lips and started to kiss his scars, marking each one reverently before moving on, every soft touch of her mouth making the muscles jump. She was aware he was watching her, his breathing heavy and slow.

He made a small gasping sound as she reached his largest scar, a stark pink one that completely encircled his upper arm above the elbow. She kissed that one several times, peppering it with rapid little smooches.

She lifted her head. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyes had taken on a glazed look, but he blinked several times and his expression came back into focus.

That frown was back, puzzled rather that irritated, and she transferred her attention to the lines on his forehead, rubbing her lips against them.

She felt the tense muscles in his face relax, and his brow smoothed out.

His hand settled on her hip, stroking it tentatively.

Emily concentrated on her task. She was intent on covering every inch of his face with her kisses, and he meekly allowed her, his head rolling on his neck, tilting back as she worked her way down.

Her lips lingered along his jaw, following the hard line to his chin. His mouth was right there. Right above her own. Emily clung to the jutting bones of his shoulders as he dipped his chin down so that her next kiss landed on his mouth.

Her hands clenched, digging into his scant flesh as she moaned into the wet cave beyond his lips. His tongue snuck out to touch hers, flicking against the edge of her teeth.

She let her hands glide down over the wet cotton of his t-shirt, feeling the prominent bones of his ribs, creeping under the hem to touch his cool flesh.

He grunted, sucking her tongue into his mouth, lifting her on his knees to tip her against him.

The chain links jingled against the floor and each other as they climbed onto the bed, Lucas struggling out of his t-shirt with her help. He shivered as he lay himself out and Emily quickly climbed on top of him, lying on him to warm him.

His fingertips trailed up her spine as she covered him, her face pressed into the side of his neck, and she wriggled against him as he found a ticklish spot.

She felt his pelvis lift in response to her movement, the sharp edges of his hip bones poking into her, the outline of his hard-on in his pants nudging her more insistently.

Emily knew what he was hinting for, but he'd have to wait. She'd only done his head and arms - there was a lot left for her to explore.

She moved down him, laying her ear over his heart. His heartbeat was rapid, slamming under his ribs. His hands moved in her hair, winding strands around his fingers. It was all very sweet until she realised he was subtly putting pressure on the top of her head, trying to urge her further down. She bit his nipple by way of punishment and the pushing stopped.

Emily resumed her slow progress, running her mouth over his chest, gradually covering every bit. He didn't have much hair there, just the slightest dusting. Most of him was smooth.

She encountered more scars on the lower part of his ribs, standing stark against the tight flesh. One was particularly nasty, thick like a coil of rope, but she didn't shy away from it.

“How did you get this?” she asked, drawing her tongue along it. He shuddered, hands curling in her hair. 

“Fell on a railin’ when I was little. Was climbin’ a tree….” he told her.

She licked it again, and was rewarded with another tremor that travelled the length of his body. Encouraged, she set to work on the rest of his scars, alternating her lips and her tongue, fussing over each of them, making him twitch and flinch.

“Did you do these yourself?” she asked, in between.

“Some of ‘em,” he confessed. “Others….ah...I picked up along the way….”

She'd reached his belly. He was too thin, the skin stretched too taut. She wanted to feed him up, soften his angles. Her tongue dipped into his navel briefly, then drew a circle around it. She was deliberately holding back, savouring him, but it couldn't last forever.

Emily went down further. The waistband of his shorts showed above his jeans, a  narrow matt of hair rising just over them.

She rubbed her face in it, the musky smell filling her head. His hard-on strained up under his fly, the head touching her chin.

He squirmed impatiently as she carefully kissed along the elastic of his shorts, from hip to hip, taking her sweet time.

He sighed happily as she finally reached for the button of his jeans, popping it open, teasing his zip down slowly. Given some freedom, his cock crowded out, pressing up between teeth of the zip, the stretchy black fabric of his shorts made damp.

She kissed the head through it, feeling it bob under her lips, before sealing her mouth round it and breathing onto it. He wriggled under the assault of the moist heat, lifting his crotch, nudging at her teeth.

Emily pinched her jaws together gently in warning and he subsided meekly, letting her choose the pace.

She hooked two fingers under the elastic, lifting it up and peeling it back. The head of his dick was flushed dark with blood, a single clear bead of pre-cum oozing from the eye, and she flicked her tongue delicately over it.

He moaned this time, taking his hand from her hair to grab a fistful of the sheets instead, knuckles white.

With a contented sigh, Emily licked her lips, opening her mouth and sliding it around the meat of his helmet. She sucked it, running her tongue around the ridge, tormenting the little thread of skin that joined it to the shaft, wallowing in his taste and the flutter of his veins.

“Aw, c’mon Emily….” he pleaded through gritted teeth.

She dabbed the point of her tongue into the opening at the top once before sitting up.

He was watching her intently, eyes wide, mouth hung open.

She raised herself up onto her knees, straddling the narrow span of his hips, pushing his jeans and shorts down further to release him. His prick sprang up eagerly, tapping out a brief Morse code against his belly. She wondered what it was spelling out. Hopefully, it was P-L-E-A-S-E.

Smiling at him, she twitched the gusset of her panties aside, grasping his cock at the root and angling it upwards, shuffling on her knees till she was poised over him. She rubbed the end between her pussy lips, coating him in her juices, before sinking slowly down on him.

He groaned, closing his eyes. The tendons on his shoulders stood out and she ran her fingers over them, feeling his restrained tension. She shifted her hips forward, leaning down over him to watch his response, fascinated by the ripple of his muscles roiling just under the surface.

Her hands went to his chest, supporting her and providing her with a physical study of his pleasure to accompany the visual one. Sex was okay. It was nice. But her desire was more than just the conjugation of cock and pussy - It it was him. All of him. Every facial tic, every tiny expression, every little morsel of his movement, every puffed breath. She rode him faster, eyes keenly raking over him from the top of his head to the dip of his belly as he worked himself up into her.

This had gone too fast - she hadn't intended to fuck him right away - but it made him happy and let her own his body for this brief time.

His hands came up off the mattress from either side, taking hold of her thighs, fingers digging in. His head tipped back and she watched the rippling line of his throat as he gasped. His heart was hammering against her hand and she laid her palm over it, fascinated by its urgency.

She had him. Lucas Baker. He was under her and he was hers right now, after all this time. She could look at him all she wanted.

His forehead creased and she felt a little thrill of satisfaction shoot through her that was more than sexual. He was jerking his pelvis up, burrowing into her, ass rising and falling. He made another sound, a choked grunt, biting his bottom lip, eyebrows drawing together.

She felt the pulse of his cock as he came, a jolt that hit her pussy walls and his eyes flew open at that moment, staring back up at her in wonder and gratitude. Emily wanted to clap her hands, but instead she clasped his face between them and leaned down to kiss his panting mouth.

He went limp under her, chest heaving.

“Shit….” he muttered.

Emily smiled.

 

“You didn't, uh….”

He sounded awkward, embarrassed even.

“No,” she said. “But it doesn't matter.”

She was lying on him, head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, utterly content.

His hand touched the back of her head tentatively, smoothing down the hair.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he asked.

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his skin blissfully.

“What was in that soda?”

“Barbiturates,” she said. “I work in a pharmacy now.”

“An’....were you keepin’ that there for me or for just anyone?”

Emily frowned, sitting up. She was offended by the question.

“Only for you, Lucas,” she said reproachfully. “I'm not some kind of weirdo!”

He looked doubtful but didn't argue.

She sank back down onto him.

“So you been plannin’ this for a while?” he asked carefully.

“Oh yes. A long time now.”

There was a period of silence, but she sensed he wanted to say something else.

“I'm sorry for tryin’ to stab you with that needle full o’ tranquilizers,” he said eventually. 

“That's okay, I forgive you,” replied Emily generously. “And besides, you missed!”

She giggled.

“Yeah, well, cuz you drugged me….” He he pointed out.

She patted his arm comfortingly. The male ego was such a fragile thing.

She sat up.

“I have to go now,” she told him. “But I'll be back later with some food.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful.

“D’ya reckon you could maybe take the chain off soon?” he asked, nodding toward the shackle on his ankle.

Emily frowned.

“Maybe soon. If you're good.”

She went to the door, opening it with the key hung from her neck.

“Bye, Lucas. I love you!” she said, blowing him a kiss as she locked, bolted and barred the door behind her.


End file.
